


Stand Alone

by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)



Series: Such A Quiet Thing [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Force Visions, Gen, Jedi, Jedi Shadow!Arren, Kreia is Arren Kae, aka: in which arren accidentally adopts a child, pre-mandalorian wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 18:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19729309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F117_Nighthawk/pseuds/F-117%20Nighthawk
Summary: The Force calls a particular Shadow to Onderon, but not for the reasons she thinks.





	Stand Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Me: let's finish any WIP ever in my drafts  
> also me; writes a one shot of pure self indulgence on a whim  
> i mean, i guess that's all my fanfic but. _shrug_

She snapped into alertness. The final order of the dream (vision?) bounced around in her head. “Ay-Tee,” she mumbled, punching buttons in the cockpit of her small stealth ship, “get me a course to Onderon. As quick as you can.” The little astromech twirtled and beeped in response as a course popped up on her nav comp.

* * *

The Shadow knelt in darkness. She watched the procession through the Force as it passed through the city. Those in the streets wailed and cried in mourning as the hearse passed them on its way outside the walls, but she did not consider them. She had a mission to complete. 

There were too many people feeling too strong emotions for her to pick out any singular being through the Force, but her secondary target was visible just behind the hearse. Princess Talia shuffled along in dark colors, her now-regent uncle by her side. He put a hand on her shoulder, a small comfort in light of the sadness coiling around them both. 

She couldn’t sense whatever had drawn her to Onderon, though, so she sat in the shadows in silence.

* * *

The assassins had been easy enough to deal with once they’d finally shown themselves, without the Sith artifacts she’d been expecting. She doubted Talia even knew they had existed. The Regent-Uncle had been falling all over himself to show his gratitude, but she’d refused all his gifts and promises. All she wanted was the ability to walk around the city, to find what had originally drawn her here. 

Why would the Force draw a Shadow to Onderon, if not for dangerous Sith artifacts?

She wandered the city, letting the Force draw her where it would. She could feel the remnants of the Great Sith War, but it did not draw her to them. Eventually, frustrated with the Force’s lack of guidance, she checked into a hotel and grabbed an actual bed for the night. 

* * *

She wandered again the next morning, searching through the Force for anything tainted with sith influence, or even just a particularly strong sense of hatred. 

She ended up in the hotel again that night.

* * *

She sat in the park just off the merchant quarter of Iziz. Her search had been futile all morning, nothing calling to her, nothing obviously wrong in the city. With a sigh she settled down and opened her presence further to the Force. She let her walls fall, let the shields of entire memorized sections of the Jedi Archives drop, and simply _felt._

Her mind was immediately blasted by an overpowering presence. It was strong, so _very_ strong, almost uncontrollable in its strength.

_A young man stood on the bridge of a cruiser, his face masked in red and black. A fleet spread out in front of him, decorated in the red and yellow of the Republic. Jedi Robes hung off his lithe frame, but he had a certain aura about him of power and command very much unlike a Jedi. The lightsabers at his waist were scuffed and worn with years of use. “General,” a voice called. He turned to see the two people that he instinctively and always would classify as “friend” marching onto the bridge. They both were wearing Jedi Robes as well, blending in with the sky-blue tattoos on the man’s head and the short blond ponytail of the woman. “We’re ready. The Mandalorians won’t know what hit them.”_

_“Good. Captain Dodoona, commence the attack.”_

_He was older, his robes different, grey and black now covered by red armor that hung off his too-thin frame. He hunched over the command table, hood shadowing his face from view in place of the helmet that sat by his elbow. The lightsabers on his waist were different, repaired and replaced. The man from before opened the door to the command centre and gently shut it behind him, concern etched in his furrowed brow. His deep red robes rustled as stood by the man, fidgeting for words of comfort. After a moment, he reached out a hand and placed it on the man’s elbow. “We won the war.”_

_“But at what_ cost?” _he hissed. He snapped his head up and glared at the man. His rust-colored hair was disheveled and greasy, covering his eyes from view, but the hitch in his breath betrayed their glassy state. “We’re not supposed to be the ones that destroy worlds. But I have, and I sent our partner to her death to do it.”_

_He was even older, different robes but the same scuffed armor overtop them. The familiar helmet was cradled in his hands as he gazed out at the fleet around him. Its markings were different, the ships sleeker and faster, but they were all decked out in the same Republic colors. A streak of white in his hair led from a nasty scar on his left temple. One of the lightsabers at his waist seemed to be the one that had belonged to the man with the tattoos._

_“Hey.” The man glanced behind him as the woman from before walked up behind him. Her hair was shorter, a pixie cut that accentuated the angles of her face. A scar started just behind her ear and twisted down her neck, disappearing under the collar of a grey Jedi Robe. She flipped a double-blade, different than the one she’d originally had, around in her hand as she joined him in gazing out at the fleet. “We’ll stop them. For him, if nothing else.”_

_He took a deep breath, gaze shifting to the helmet in his hands. “Right.” He put it on and it sealed with a hiss. “Admiral Onasi! Time to go.”_

_He stood on an empty ship, alone. The blade in his right hand glowed a burning violet, while the left one, the tattooed man’s, shone red like blood. Shadowy shapes surrounded him, but he stood strong with a grim sense of determination. The Force swirled around him, a tightly controlled interplay of light and shadow. The helmet was gone, his eyes finally visible, sparkling grey streaked through by a cold, burning gold. With a battle cry the shapes charged, and the Force around the man exploded outwards, covering the scene in a warm dark._

She gasped as the vision released her, reeling in shock. The Force presence, the young man with the two blades and aura of command, was still in front of her, surrounding her, but it felt different all the same. Younger, without the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. She followed it, the tendrils of untrained power that filtered around a particular house. 

There was a toddler in the yard, maybe one year old, his grey eyes sparkling in the noonday light. Rust colored hair bounced as he toddled towards her, babbling happily.

“Ah, Ma’am?”

She blinked and looked at the old man who had come between her and the child. “He is Force-sensitive, is he not?”

His eyes widened. “How did you--?”

“I can feel him. He’s _powerful,_ if untrained. It’s rare to sense that much power in one so young.”

“You’re a Jedi,” the man whispered. He glanced between her unassuming robes and the lightsaber at her belt. “I had heard a rumor there was one on Onderon, but I was sure you had left already.”

“I go where the Force wills me.”

“If….If you could take him with you, Master Jedi, I would be most grateful. I’ve been taking care of him since his parents died, but his Force powers seem to be growing every day and I can barely keep up. The other kids seem to be scared of him, sometimes. I was hoping a Recruiter would show up eventually and give him a better life than I can.”

She watched over the man’s shoulder as the child reached out and sloppily called a toy to his hands. Hesitantly, carefully, she reached out a tendril of her awareness to him. Once again, the sheer power in front of her almost overwhelmed her. It was like staring into the heart of the Force, a well of sheer power. 

_“Savior, conqueror, hero, villain. You are all things, Revan... and yet you are nothing. In the end, you belong to neither the light nor the darkness. You will forever stand alone.”_

“What’s his name?”

“Revelin. Revelin Massi.”

“I can take him back to the Temple, if you wish.”

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” the old man bowed. There was relief on his face as he went back into the house to gather the few things they would need.

* * *

Later, on her ship, the boy snuggled in a blanket next to Ay-Tee, she gazed out at the stars. How the hell was she going to explain _this_ one to the Council? A Shadow, known for her silence and never interacting with the Younglings, taking on the job of a Recruiter?

With a sigh, she opened a comm line to the only person she knew who could help. “Vandar?”

“Arren. I sense you have something to ask?”

She turned the comm so he could see the boy. “I think I need some help.”

* * *

She never really understood why the Force had decided that she should be the one to find him. But as she watched him grow up into the young man with the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders and two scuffed blades on his belt, as she played game after game of dejarik against him, as she died and fell and saved herself and the dead woman with the scar and the double-blade and died again, she thought that maybe she understood his destiny.

The words the Force had whispered to her when she found him stayed with her even to her grave. He was a savior, yet a conqueror, the hero and the villain of his story. Neither light nor dark, but an interplay that walked the fine line and created the greatest Jedi Master she had ever seen. He was all things in the Force, and at the same time nothing.

But he _never_ stood alone. 


End file.
